


Pilot

by sorrymommy



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anorexia, HTP, HYDRA Trash Party, Hey guess what, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve has an eating disorder, anyway, brock rumlow is a gigantic douchebag, but i dunno if i should write it or nah, future domestic abuse, i'm so sorry mom, this is going to be super intricate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:18:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4800902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorrymommy/pseuds/sorrymommy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers meets an older man who captures his interest, one who he hopes can save him. Brock Rumlow meets a vulnerable twink that he wants to mold into his perfect plaything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilot

Steve Rogers spat out blood and a molar, right onto a very expensive pair of Timbaland boots. It’d stain. He liked the idea of that, until a huge fist collided into his mouth again. No teeth were knocked out this time, but his lips would probably be fat. He found that he didn’t really care anymore. About himself, about anything but his life’s single goal, his single purpose. 

Leave it to Steve Rogers to realize that while staring at the sky from a pile of garbage. He was glassy eyed and halfway to unconsciousness. So, gazing at the sky, blank and numb, he laughed. He laughed, loud and raw and utterly painful. The guy he’d been fighting must’ve thought he was crazy; he took off running like a startled deer. Steve was crazy. 

With some struggle, he hauled himself out of the pile of wet garbage bags, and finally he got his usual hazy view of his home, the not so happy, not so humble city of Brooklyn. He current situation, bleeding in a nasty back alley with the juices of day old garbage soaking into his back seemed to sum it up perfect. Steve himself did, in fact.

He was ever an underdog, exceptionally short turned downright _pathetically_ short, with fluffy blond hair and bright blue eyes. His pretty face had been marred by a rock to it, breaking his nose and giving him a unique stubborn fierceness. Over time, that fierceness, along with the rest of him, had wasted away. 

After a little while of swaying there, rocking slowly from side to side and trying to shake himself to a state of full consciousness, he got a move on. He swaggered down the street, shaky like a drunk, and sneering at any that stared when he passed by. 

Brock Rumlow, quite a few years his senior and looking for a pretty boy to claim like a predator looks for prey, found this quite amusing. So when dull blue eyes met his own and swollen red lips twisted into a snarl, he got even closer. “Got somethin’ to say to me, sweetcheeks?” 

Everything about him, from his boots to the set of his shoulders to the look in his eyes of pure, wicked danger terrified Steve. Terrified him in the most pleasant way. Even Steve, well known amongst the assholes around here as a firecracker, was forced to step back by the feeling of pure power that seeped from this man.   
Holy. Fucking. Shit.  
“Yeah,” he was an idiot, a fool, and this was the beginning of what could very much so end his life. “Yeah I do.”  
“Fuck you.” 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this, head on over to my profile and look up the official fic! I Bet You Kissed Your Knuckles Right Before They Touched My Cheek is it's title. Thank you!


End file.
